


Stealing A Taste

by victorine



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: #DrunkenKissesChallenge, Drinking, DrunkenKissesChallenge, First Kiss, M/M, never bet against Hannibal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-07-15 20:39:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7237594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/victorine/pseuds/victorine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal is giving Will an impromptu cooking lesson at Wolf Trap. Will, somewhat inebriated, decides to test just how good Hannibal's palate really is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stealing A Taste

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Hannibal Cre-Ate-Ive [Drunken Kisses Challenge](http://hannibalcreative.tumblr.com/post/145876934184/challenge-announcement). Thanks for all the amazing work you guys are doing in the fandom!

Will was dimly aware that Hannibal had asked him something. It was just that, after a half-hour of the good doctor’s attempts to educate him on the intricacies of using wine in cookery – as part of a practical demonstration currently being given in Will’s kitchen involving a lot of red meat and an intimidatingly French recipe – Will’s ability to concentrate had faded somewhat. It wasn't as if he'd _asked_ for Hannibal to come round and invade his kitchen, the man had just shown up, taken one, concerned look at Will’s ever-shrinking frame and said, _It's just as well I came prepared._

If he had been forewarned of the doctor’s visit, he certainly – _probably_ – wouldn't have started drinking quite so early, or so hard.

Especially since _prepared_ turned out to mean Hannibal had come bearing bags of groceries, including several bottles of wine, some for cooking with, some for drinking. And, regardless of the fact that it meant Will now contained the ever-dangerous combination of grape and grain, it would have been unforgivably rude to reject such generosity.

Also unforgivably rude was not paying attention to your friend’s words, instead just letting the sound of his voice and the warmth of his presence wash over you in a pleasant, increasingly drunken haze. Letting yourself focus on the bow of his lips as they stretched and spread around obscure culinary phrases. Will pulled himself together and asked, sheepishly, “What was that? Sorry, I drifted off for a second.”

Hannibal, to Will’s great relief, didn't look offended, merely smiling indulgently and nodding towards his empty glass. “I was only inquiring as to whether you were ready for another refill? Or,” he added, apparently noting the wince Will had tried unsuccessfully to repress, “perhaps you would prefer to switch back to your usual?”

_Back_ , Will noted. So Hannibal knew he had been drinking before his arrival.

“Anyone would think you were trying to get me drunk, doctor,” Will chuckled, only realising after he said it that there was flirtation in his tone.

_And how do we feel about that Mr Graham?_

“You wouldn't be offended?” he added, hoping the booze explained the rise of colour in his cheeks.

“Not at all, Will. This is your home, which I have taken over with no prior notice. Of course you should do whatever you are comfortable with.” Hannibal's affability knew no limit, it seemed.

“Thanks,” Will muttered, making his way over to his makeshift bar to start back on the scotch he'd abandoned at Hannibal's appearance.

“Though I remain determined to make a wine-lover of you yet,” Hannibal added, the blade in his hand flashing as he made confetti of some herb or other. Will felt a little stutter of… _something_ , when Hannibal rolled the word _lover_ off his tongue. He chose not to examine it too closely.

“I'm not certain my palate will ever come close to yours, not with wine anyway,” Will groused instead, returning to Hannibal's side and glancing at the mouth which held those clever tastebuds. Hannibal’s tongue, pink and wet, flicked out across his lips and Will looked away again, flustered.

“Perhaps not, though I flatter myself that few could.”

Will smirked at the smug tone laced through Hannibal’s voice, his usual veil of modesty unnecessary with the empath, who always saw through it anyway. Hannibal loved to preen, even if he preferred others didn't realise it.

“No doubt you could identify a vintage just by looking at it,” Will teased him.

“My powers do not extend quite so far,” Hannibal lilted, “but certainly my senses of taste and smell are rarely fooled.”

“Maybe where wine is concerned. I wonder if you could do the same with whisky.” Will took a sip from his glass and looked at Hannibal thoughtfully. He slid the glass towards him, saying, “I bet you can't tell what I've been drinking.”

Hannibal tilted his head, looking delighted. He set down the knife, turned to face Will and slid smoothly towards him. “An opportunity to prove myself to you.” He ran a finger around the rim of the glass, stopping at the imprint left by Will’s lips, brushing a thumb against it. “I accept the challenge.”

For once, for probably the first time, Will could read exactly what was in Hannibal's mind. Unfortunately, the knowledge had the usual effect of momentarily knocking his motor functions offline – _that, and being really very drunk_ – so when Hannibal reached out, not for his glass but his cheek, and drew Will into a soft but very definite kiss, he did nothing to resist. Of course, that didn't explain the moan that he let out as it happened, and definitely didn't justify parting his lips when Hannibal licked into them and absolutely would not excuse the fact that his hands immediately landed on Hannibal's ass as they kissed deeper. The booze might. But probably didn't.

Hannibal didn't seem to be interested in explanations just now, anyway, judging by the way he was pressing Will into the counter and his hips into Will.

_Not just his hips_ , Will registered, with a distinct flare of excitement. His breath caught as Hannibal sucked gently on his tongue, apparently still keen to investigate the taste of both Will and his drink.

He could feel Hannibal's heartbeat drumming against his chest, smell his rich cologne, his clean-linen soap, the edge of salt from his sweat. There were long, agile fingers in his hair and a thigh pressed in between his legs, the flexing muscle of which Will longed to rut against, uncontrolled. And then Hannibal pulled back, his huff of effort matched by Will’s whine at his absence. Hannibal pressed his thumb to Will’s bottom lip, a mollifying promise to return there soon, before delivering his verdict.

“Mmm, Laphroaig, the eighteen-year-old if I'm not very much mistaken. No wonder you taste so good, Will.”

Will groaned, mortified but delighted, then groaned again as he realised he'd lost the bet. “I must be really dumb, to bet against the man who's good at everything.”

“Oh, Will, you haven't even begun to see where my true talents lie.”

At this, Will grinned, cocked an eyebrow and, just before reeling Hannibal in for another whisky and wine laced kiss, murmured, “Wanna bet?”

**Author's Note:**

> So, since Graham is a name with Scottish roots, I decided Will is a scotch drinker. Laphroaig is not my brand of choice but I could just see Will enjoying its peaty, smoky taste. And given that it is highly divisive (those who love it really love it, those who don't can't understand why anyone would), and often described as "medicinal", I thought Hannibal would likely approve too.
> 
> Also, I'm not really sure when this is set. Sometime in late s1, I guess, or maybe an s2 au in which Hannibal told Will about the encephalitis and Will still doesn't know he's the Ripper.
> 
> As always and ever, kudos is nice, comments are life. Or come flail with me about murder husbands on [tumblr](http://victorineb.tumblr.com).


End file.
